Issues of Execution, Part 1

Our stay in Portland ended, after a short stint at my cousin's house who is in the midst of moving house within the city. Although she was busy most of the time with her job, Master's studies, and getting drunk (as we all are), we did manage to find some time for all of us to hang out at a small dark bar in downtown called Momo's , which featured a few awkward paintings of blinged out bitches scrunching their tits together (and one especially creepy one that, firstly, looked exactly like an ex of mine, and, to top it off, always seemed to be staring right at you no matter where you were standing), a really beat up pool table Reed and I some chump change into, and a warm outside area that was more comfortable than the inside. After introducing us to her friend - called Tom Cruz - she told us we should crash at hers, and so we took over the living room as home base.

Life got a bit more real at that point, unfortunately. As Reed put it, 'this is no vacation.' We no longer had an excuse to eat out for meals, or go to the cafe to use the internet, so we just hung around the house looking for apartments to check out. Reed picked up a short term volunteering position at Mercy Corps, and got a job interview scheduled, while Chelsea and I made calls to apartments for viewing appointments. The housing was fairly cheap, in particular a few places which had ridiculous deals, but I found that we were relatively uninspired by the options, being between jobs and uncertain of our future. Most of the cheaper options were taken, or did not suit our needs - either being too far out of town, or too far from public transit, or the like.

We eventually narrowed it down to a few options, one in particular - a two bedroom house with a basement as large as the ground floor space. Though that ended up not panning out due to application formatting issues and eventually dismissal of our application. We kept sane at night by throwing some darts at nights at the local pub Biddy McGraw's

 or playing Cards Against Humanity (MechaHitler for life!) , and one night got a bit out of hand with our new friend Tom Cruz, his assortment of interesting stories, and his tendencies to start drunken fights with strangers and randomly disappear from the Lucky House, but other than that time kept on moving on, and soon we were due to be in Spokane and had to leave without a definite answer on our new place. Reed will have to sort it himself, which was accounted for in our original plan.

We were meant to travel up to Washington to meet with our mother who had recently relocated there from California with her boyfriend. The price was right for them; mom is entering the years where long extra shifts at a hospital can be extremely taxing, and Harry, her boyfriend, is a retired ex-technological entrepreneur with a great deal less than he once had. The drive from Portland to Spokane was a bit surprising really, especially after stories Reed heard of treacherous snow. In fact his anxiety was evident as soon as we started,  yet the snow chains he bought weren't needed. It started with a winding mountain pass, draped with fog and arranged with almost ornamental frozen waterfalls. Reed was vigilant while Chelsea admired the scenery, but once we cleared the mountains, the ground leveled out into an expansive collection of yellow brush. It remained this way for hundreds of miles, even as we crossed into the so called 'Evergreen State'. We all had envisioned something akin to California's towering redwood forests, but were greeted with the high desert draped in a daytime high of 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Suddenly though, the sunny plains broke,  trees began to crop up by the road, and the sky went a deep dark gray. Soon there was snow beside the road, but it still never fell.

 Just a little ways longer and we arrived in Spokane, an old city whose retained old brick edifices reminiscent of an old industrial age. It reminded me of the city of Sheffield in England, which I always remember as a city made only of brick. I think that was the only time a city in the states reminded me of a British city... but that is as far as their similarity goes. After driving through the downtown and a few miles up the road, we arrived at my mothers quaint 50's era home.

They had only been there 2 months, and as such much of their furniture and possessions were still packed away, either in the garage, or in the various rooms. Mom had not returned from her new job as a Head Charge Nurse (or something to that effect), and Harry greeted us with jobs to perform around the house to give his old hands, which had been overworked to the point of breaking the skin, a short rest.

Harry is a tall thin man of Irish decent, who considers tasks exceptionally logically. He and my mother are both very bias on certain topics due to their very conservative political ideologies or familial attitudes passed down from their parents, and at times they is a little too happy to push those subjects forth into unrelated subjects. When it comes to jobs to be completed however, Harry's years of poring over manuals whilst working with technology have given him a great ability to explain ideas and processes clearly and informatively. I assisted in the installation new hoses and drainpipes for the bathroom sink under his instruction, and job was done to his satisfaction, even under the influence of a few cans of Pabst, supplied by him naturally.

Once my mom arrived at home, Reed, Chelsea, mom and I all decided to go out to dinner - Harry stayed behind per usual (he tends not to leave the house if at all possible). We went to a nice brewpub and had some classy food, which was a very welcome change from Voodoo donuts and cup noodles. Mom seemed very happy about Reed, clad in his business suit, bringing a girl to our Christmas, even if they are not exactly together... she didn't mention it in particular, but I could tell she felt proud and relieved. Maybe she felt that he had grown up a little... but its kinda hard to say what is running through her head at the best of times.

 We finished our beers, took our leftovers home, and I returned to working on the sink while Reed, Chelsea and mom caught up and waited for my sister and her fiancee's flight to arrive. I worked with some frustration at the task due to minor mistakes while curled up, arms tied in knots inside the cabinets of the sink, trying to work my Crescent wrench or channel locks into the position necessary to tighten nuts or loosen water supplies or install ball joints. Harry observed that the only reason I get frustrated with my performance is due to, he thinks, not a failure of the task, but a failure to perform the task in the same amount of time as one who has had extensive experience with it. It reminded me of some of the stress, anxiety and disappointment that was felt on the journey to Portland thus far... not that any of these features were present in excess, but it did make me think of their origins. As these thoughts rang about my head as I sipped my beer while I listened to Harry drone on about other details I need to attend to under the sink, Mom came and told me that my sister's flight would be in soon. Normally I would have went with her, but I decided that I needed to finish the task, and insisted she go without me so I could get it done.

 Crammed under the porcelain and dripping pipes, I could not help but think  that Portland was good, but it did not carry the finality I had hoped. It was fantastic and fun, but it did not strike me as entirely ideal for me - an issue not of performing the task, but wanting its execution to work out ideally. Its so damn difficult sometimes to know whether whats before you is a good thing, and even if you think it is, the slightest doubt can turn into suspicion and eventually dismissal. It feels like there's so little time, and its an incredible task to try and determine how the hell, or even where the hell you're meant to use it. Then again, if a plan to action can be questioned, its worth figuring out why that is before its too late.